O5-Council Chambers, Site >!REDACTED!<
Members Present: O5-1, O5-4, O5-13
Personnel Present: D-Class Transcriber D-38876

"Please make sure that thing is working," said O5-1, "I really don't want to have to deal with the Mechanicus again. Letting them in here is inviting disaster."

O5-4 approached the servitor and confirmed that it was correctly recording the details of the meeting without incident. She nodded to O5-1, resuming standing next to him as quickly as she could. O5-1 was a powerful psyker, but within the center of this critical site, with the raw substance of the immaterium pulsing through the air, standing next to a blank was far more preferable.

O5-13 said to himself, barely audible in his voice worn from centuries of disuse, "A meagre shadow of our once great AICs."

Neither O5-1 nor O5-4 knew what O5-13 was talking about. Their 13th member was one of the oldest beings in existence, and was sometimes inclined to speak aloud thoughts which made no sense to them.

"I'll get straight to the point," said O5-1, "We're losing anomalies at an astronomical rate. Our council members themselves are missing, presumed dead, and entire MTFs are being snatched away in the performance of their duties. And worst of all, there doesn't seem to be anything we can do. To be frank, we're losing our organization through attrition alone. O5-13, we need your help. We would not be here if there were any other option."

"How did the problem grow so large?" said O5-13.

O5-4 shook her head, "It went unnoticed at first. Chaos cults were blamed for a majority of the raids and disappearances. Our adversary was cunning enough to disguise their methods. Eventually, we reached a tipping point. Probably when we lost O5-6. We know he was using a great deal of Safes - even Thaumiels - instead of extending his lifespan through other means. Those naturally ended up in the hands of our opponent."

O5-1 slammed the nearby machinery with a fist, "We should never have let him. O5-8 knew this would happen. But even with his contingencies, he was snatched all the same. 13, we're on borrowed time here. You know how much it has cost us to wake you for a moment. We need guidance - or intervention. Did you forsee this?"

The form of O5-13 shifted where it sat slightly, dust rising from its seat - an SCP object itself of great power. "Some events can be hidden from my sight," he replied.

"Thank you for confirming that," said an unfamiliar voice from next to them.

O5-4 wasted no time in shock - she sprinted towards the source of the threat, shrouded in the darkness and drew her polearm. She made it less than five feet before her form simply stopped moving, suspended, without movement in mid-air.

O5-1, despite the hazards involved, drew up his full might as a psyker and channeled a massive bolt which gathered more latent energy as it travelled. The mysterious figure raised tossed a prism from his cloak which projected a strange cube into the air, capturing and re-directing the energy bolt, which then coarsed out and hit the Servitor instead, dissolving it into ashes.

"Shame," said the voice, "I wanted one of those."

O5-13 was the one to stop the conflict - not using his own colossal powers, but with his sheer force of will. "Stop," he said simply, "Let us parley."

The figure stepped out of the darkness, his living metal form shrouded by a hood and scaled cloak. His entry into the Site should not have been possible - but if what O5-4 said was true, and the anomalous was being used to enhance his already-impressive abilities...

"It has been some time since you last visited Terra," said O5-13, "Trazyn the Infinite."

Trazyn gave a curt bow to the immobile O5-13, "You're looking very well, I must say."

"What do you want?" said O5-1, surprise at the intruder now controlled following 13's guidance, his tone still dripped of the hate that he had for the Necron.

"My aims are quite noble, you'll find," said Trazyn, placing one foot up on a machine, "I seek to maintain a cultural record of events - to preserve antiquities for future generations. I am just now working on an exhibit which you would be very interested in."

"I'm not interested in seeing any of your Xeno perversions," said O5-1.

"Seeing?" said Trazyn, "I think not."

There was a brief staring match at that. Only a pulse of energy from beneath O5-13 was enough to break it.

"You must think yourself confident in your new acquisitions to be standing here," said O5-1, "Out with it. What do you want?"

"Only what I have said," stressed Trazyn, now leaning on his Empathic Obliterator, "To preserve culture for future generations. It is simply that I am working on a new, grand wing of my galleries, dedicated to an area of history I have only recently learned of. The anomalous. SCP-914 is the current grand exhibit."

"You're displaying anomalies?" said O5-1, his voice now dripping venom, his hatred for both the Xeno and the uncontained now combining into a new brand of vitriol.

"Yes, and with far more success than you, I might add," said Trazyn.

"1," said O5-13, "Trazyn is not here through anomalous manipulation. He is here because I willed it."

O5-1 pivoted towards O5-13, his features writ with shock despite 13's standing. He composed himself as best he could. "Explain," was all he could say.

A shudder rang through the chamber, as if the very site itself were taking a breath before speaking. That wasn't far from the truth. 13's tone was low and halting as he spoke. "The SCP Foundation is failing. In the darkness of the 41st millennium, there is only war. The resources required to sustain our anomalous containment efforts must be spent elsewhere. Material and immaterial threats require them. It was I who invited Trazyn here today - though I did so under an alias. His galleries have... merit."

"Note," said Trazyn, "That despite my galleries holding roughly nine-tenths of the Foundation's entire supply of anomalies, we have suffered but a mere handful of containment breaches. A fairly straightforward process, when proper display procedures are observed."

"You've got to be kidding me," said O5-1.

"No," said 13, "You know that I have always guided humanity - and the O5 council before them - down the best path. This is the only path."

O5-1 looked at the frozen form of O5-4, locked in stasis. But even in the face of what was to come, he could not doubt 13. The SCP foundation under him had always been about securing and containing. But 13, he alone could say he protected humanity.

"Well..." said Trazyn, "I understand you've come to a decision, but given you've failed to consult me about it, what is to stop me taking the Golden Throne with me as I leave?"

"You will be allowed to finish your collection," said O5-13, "Including your most recent exhibit - the O5 Council. And Trazyn - you are truly only here because I willed it. If you step again into this chamber without permission, I will crush you where you stand, and no Teleportation Matrix nor Necron anti-death measures will bring you back afterward."

There was a rush of psychic power into the room to accompany the threat - a suppressed energy was now overwhelming the senses, to the extent that even Trazyn, completely blind to the immaterium in his necrodermis form, could see the sparks forming in mid-air with his oculars.

"That fate will also await you if you allow your gallery to fail."

Trazyn smiled, "If the gallery fails, it will be because I am already dead."

With the activation of a final Tesseract Labyrinth, Trazyn claimed both O5-1 and O5-4 and fled to orbit. Things had not gone as planned - he had been manipulated and had things played out differently, he may have found himself ground to dust on Holy Terra. But in the end he found that he simply didn't care. With the SCP Foundation now out of the way, the entire universe's anomalies would be safely displayed in his galleries for all eternity.

But as the distortions of light and heat cleared, the Paladin stood there, unharmed, and turned back to face the Priestess.

"That won't work - this time," said the Paladin, angling the long-burned left side of her face towards the Priestess. "I've been marked by your magic before. I've spent many years since developing an appropriate counter-ward."

"You!" said the Priestess, "You're one of them! A..."

"Heathen? Perhaps I might have been, once. Before you burned my village, killed my people and ended their traditions. As it is, I know little of the ways of my people, and my own experiences have led me from their path. Barely anyone knows them any more - you did such a good job of erasing any trace of their heritage, any trace of Crag's End. But you didn't quite get one child - caught halfway by one of your blasts as she fled down an alleyway."

The Priestess had recovered a little and tried a different tact, summoning a large, green, ethereal serpent which flailed out of her staff and toward the intruder. The Paladin reached for their blade, and in a flash the snake was bisected, falling to the ground and dissolving into steam. The Priestess hadn't even seen the Paladin lunge. Just how powerful was she?

"And you used that particular trick in the neighbouring village, this time disguised as a Fallen. The accounts of your attack on the village, and defeat by one of your own faith's Priests were very convincing. But it all becomes clear when you realize that there really isn't such a thing as a Fallen, doesn't it?" said the Paladin, "That the sacred oaths and tenets are no more binding than a simple promise."

"You..." said the Priestess, trying to think of some other trick to try - something that she hadn't used before, on that northern crusade, "What do you want from me? Coin?"

The Paladin laughed at that, a long, hearty laugh that echoed around the empty temple. "No, not coin. What I want is for you to come clean about what you've been doing all these years - the lies and deception you've been using to grow your following. Purging competing faiths, telling villages and towns that your way is the only protection from the Fallen - a threat that you manufactured - I want them all to know."

"You must be truly mad if you think I'd admit to that," said the Priestess.

"Hmm," said the Paladin, squaring her shoulders, "Then it's a good thing that the second thing that I want is to prevent you from hurting anyone else, ever again."

There was another flash of light, and the Priestess' staff was cloven in two, the two pieces falling from her grip and to the ground, disintegrating into ash as the enchantment on the item failed.

"Wait!" shouted the Priestess, "Wait! I can give you the High Priests! The ones who ordered us to go north! I'll give you them! Only I have what you need!"

The Paladin's free hand went into her satchel, the left hand still on her blade. She pulled out a parchment, a list of names - how had the Paladin gotten them? They were supposed to be bound to secrecy!

"You were right about one thing, Priestess. The light does reveal all, in time. But this was no divine intervention. Your own faith turned against you in the end. The actual Priests of your faith - those that didn't agree with what you did, who actually cared - they watched, and waited. You own the guards and the courts - line their pockets with the results of your tithes. They'd find no justice going to them. But when I became involved - well, they saw the chance to set things right. I wonder what new and better version of your faith they'll build, without your toxic influence."

"No, please - I..."

There was a flash of light, and the Priestess suddenly found herself on the floor, strength ebbing as the seconds ticked down. The Paladin stood close by, and uttered a few final words.

"And if for some strange reason I'm wrong - if deities do exist, and they did choose you to wield divine power? Tell them when you meet them that they chose poorly."

The young Paladin and the older Priestess walked side-by-side through the luxurious halls of the temple. The Priestess' cane clacked against the floor as they walked.

"Pray tell, who is this Athiest? It is no deity that I've ever heard of," said the Priestess. Though her manner was courteous, her question was not asked in good faith. The newcomers had been causing a ruckus around town, and she'd be damned if she'd allow her own deity to be upstaged. This was, for her, an exercise in factfinding.

"No, my lady, I apologize for any miscommunication," said the Paladin, giving the Priestess a slight bow in courtesy, "I mean to say that I am an Atheist. That means that I personally don't believe the Gods truly exist. Though I respect that you may feel differently, being a Priestess and all."

"I don't understand," said the Priestess, any plans to thwart the newcomer momentarily forgotten in sheer shock, "You wield the power of the Light, do you not? That power must come from somewhere - some divine entity."

The Paladin shook her head, a loose wisp of hair brushing against the burned left side of her face, "No, I don't believe that it does. No divine entity has ever presented itself to me, and I have been provided with no conclusive evidence that they exist. In my youth I made prayers to whatever beings would listen, but never received any response."

The Priestess' demeanour was beginning to slip, "You're not supposed to receive a response, young Paladin. As a wielder of the Light, you're supposed to act in faith, and if you do, you will be rewarded by the higher powers. Failure to live by the tenets of your faith leads to consequences - to banishment from your faith. Surely you know this?"

"And yet, I do not, and the power is mine regardless," said the Paladin, whose patience with the Priestess suggested that they'd had this conversation before, "With no assumption of reward or punishment, the facts become all the more clearer to me. It would explain how the Fallen still wield power, despite renouncing their oaths. It explains how wrongdoing still happens in the world using divine magics. I myself have no formal tenets, and yet I continue to use my powers daily."

"You mean to say that you have no oath? No vow?" said the Priestess, venom creeping into her voice, "You have never had to make penance, or pay a tithe to a Priest or Priestess to cleanse your sins?"

The Paladin shook her head, "No, I have no tenets beyond a desire to do right by my fellows. My own powers are a mystery to me - I know not from where they originate, but I do not think they originate from Gods."

"They are of divine import!" said the Priestess, "No lowly peasant can wield the powers of the Gods. It isn't possible. Only those chosen by the faith!"

"I was once, as you so nicely put it, a peasant," said the Paladin, "Everything since then, I have learned. My powers are no weaker for my lack of reliance upon tradition or faith-based discipline."

The Priestess blinked, and spun on her heel, now directly facing the Paladin. She tapped her cane against the stone floor, as the revelation hit her, "Oh, I see! If you were of humble origins, it is possible that your patron is simply choosing not to make themselves known to you! How exciting - no doubt they will visit you, when they feel that you are sufficiently humble and willing to listen. Surely, that must be the case. Yes - the Light will reveal all in time."

"I doubt that," said the Paladin, "For even if the Gods do exist, I have cursed them many a time."

"You have blasphemed? Cursed the very Gods themselves? Why would you do this? To admit this to a Priestess of the faith, why I could have you interred! Are you some kind of heathen?" questioned the Priestess.

"No, my lady, I would not say I am an adherent of a so-called heathen faith - in fact, I have made it quite clear that I have no faith at all."

"Then, why?" asked the Priestess, whose voice was raising in anger - an insult against her faith had been made, and this 'Paladin' was only building her case for heresy for her. She would go straight to the guards afterwards. Or to the head Priest - perhaps an example could be made.

The Paladin sighed, "I have seen sights which quite plainly prove to me that there are no Gods, or - in the unlikely event that they are real, that they are cruel or indifferent. Tell me, have you ever been north, my lady - outside of the capital?"

The Priestess was guarded now, but saw no harm in responding. "No, my duties do not permit it."

There was a flash of light suddenly as the very world seemed to gleam with intensity. The Priestess suddenly found herself blinded and nauseous, blinking spots from her eyes.

"Ah," said the Paladin, "My ward wasn't triggered by your own beliefs, but that one was a lie - or more accurately, a statement which you truly believe to be a lie."

The Priestess hissed, "A Truthsayer's Ward? What authority have you to invoke this magic?"

"Only my own," replied the Paladin, "And I was reluctant to lay such a potent ward here, but I am glad my information was correct. You have been north, a rarity among your kind. To a little village called Crag's End, isn't that right?"

The Priestess stumbled and rubbed her eyes. The aftereffect of the magic had staggered her, sapped her strength momentarily. Now it was starting to come back - she had only to stall for a moment to call her own power. "Fine, I may have left the capital once or twice. What of it?"

"One of those times was eight years ago, was it not?" said the Paladin, whose back was now turned to the Priestess, expression inscrutable.

The Priestess did not reply.

"Your evasive tongue has clearly escaped you for a moment, so I'll answer truthfully for you," said the Paladin, "You did go north, eight years ago. You paid a visit to a village called Crag's End, on a mission of great importance to your faith. You walked with a cane then, too - though one a little less ornate than the one you currently use."

The Priestess' sight was coming back, and she gripped her own cane tightly. The Paladin was right - her current cane was much newer - and a far more potent focus for her magics. Perhaps it was time to show the Paladin just how much more potent. She pulled the staff back in her hands, and it swelled with energy. She lashed out with the implement, bathing the Paladin in a torrent of holy fire which caused the pews of the temple to blister and crack in the heat. She smiled - the Paladin had been a fool to turn her back on her.

_

Part two below!